


Finding a Sentinel

by Foodmoon



Series: Oddball fics [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Slash, Space empires AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-15 01:13:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13602468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foodmoon/pseuds/Foodmoon
Summary: Danny is required to find a sentinel. Don't ask him to be happy about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine.  
> This is what happens when a manic muse meets exhaustion and medication.  
> It's probably boring.  
> I apologize for putting all the world building at the beginning, but I don't think it makes sense without it.
> 
> **Hemide:** Heh-ME-day: Human interstellar empire with Empaths (Vandany insist on calling them Guides for reasons Hemideans don’t pretend to understand) as a known percentage of their populace
> 
> **Vandan:** VAN-done: Human interstellar empire with Sentinels as known percentage of their populace
> 
> **Jersey, England, Hawaii:** Since this is an interstellar AU, Jersey is a large city on one of the more industrial worlds; England is a largely fog-bound and rainy area in one of the older more traditional worlds; Hawaii is one of several nations on a tiny planet with a mostly tropical landmass of mostly islands. Hawaii’s history varies from irl a bit to allow for it being an entire nation that was not forcibly subjugated.
> 
> **Clones:** Tech for cloning humans has been perfected long ago. They are just like other humans and have the same rights. (Use of clone tech is extremely limited.)  
>  However, empath/Guide and Sentinel clones are an exception. No one has ever been able to figure out why, but they are always sterile. As per the agreement of the Hemidean and the Vandany Empires, the sentinel/guide clones only have the most basic rights until they have been matched, at which point they are granted equal rights. They are raised with limited exposure to their ‘parent’ cultures to help ease any cultural clashes.
> 
> **Hemidean/Vandany Guide/Sentinel (natural and clone) exchange agreement _(leaving out lots and lots and lots of legalese):_** clones of Hemidean Guides and Vandany Sentinels are made (one of each living guide/empath and sentinel) and shipped in biostasis, sentinels to Hemide, guides/empaths to Vandan, and kept in biostasis facilities where unmatched sentinels and empaths/guides can search among them for a match.  
>  If a natural empath/guide or sentinel cannot find a match among the clones, and are struggling with out of control abilities, they may choose to undergo national exchange and biostasis in hopes of finding a match. It is acknowledged that since clones are not necessarily identical to their progenitors on a mental or mystic basis, that for some a natural match may be the only solution. Other irregularities have been (rarely) noted with clone matches (such as two empaths matching the same sentinel or the reverse) and are to be allowed without censure.
> 
> **History:** Before the Hemidean and Vandany empires met and made overtures with trade in mind, empaths and sentinels had to struggle along on their own. The cultures had respective traditions regarding them, but often those who struggled most with their abilities ended up in quiet medical facilities, sedated to take the worst off the edge of their abilities, but in the end, dying rather young and finding it a relief. Earlier in history, of course, it was generally considered a mercy to put them out of their misery once they reached a certain stage of inability to control their abilities.  
>  This changed during the trade negotiations. The royal families of the empires met on neutral ground, and while their Prince Blair was able to help Prince ‘Jim’ James through one of his increasingly out of control episodes of his sentinel senses without causing himself mental/emotional pain, much to the astonishment and gratification of both parties.  
> Originally, something along the lines of an exchange fair was set up for potential matches to meet. This proved impractical within a few decades for a number of reasons, among them interstellar travel costs, cultural clashes, and inability to meet with everyone during the time spans provided. So, experimentation with clones of empaths/guides and sentinels was done and found to have satisfactory results, and the exchange agreement was set up in its current form. The only downside is the sterility of clones, which means that only natural matches in which the partners are opposite sexes have children. Thus there are very few Guides born to Vandany couples and very few Sentinels born to Hemidean couples, even several centuries later. The very rare such offspring are treasured and sought after within their respective cultures.
> 
> **Biostasis:** A state that is much like sleep for those in it, it drastically slows aging and physical functions, muting but not obliterating the ‘feel’ of a mind to those who are sentinels or guides/empaths. _(Let’s just handwave it, okay?)_

Danny walks among the rows of sentinels in biostasis, feeling uneasy. Then again, everyone makes him feel uneasy these days. The sentinels aren’t as bad, but they still rub his empathic senses raw as he brushes lightly against their minds. At least the biostasis mutes the feel of them to tolerable.

It hadn’t always been this bad. He’d grown up in a massive city, but with a warm, loving family _(except for his younger brother, who is, as Rachel would say, ‘something of a prat’)_ and had excellent control of his empathic senses.  
  
He’d even become a cop, a profession most Empaths shy away from for obvious reasons, and married a girl from a sector of the empire that had a lot of pride in its manners and traditions. It wasn’t until his partner at work had been killed in front of him that he’d started to have issues, but over the years they’d grown worse. And worse.

Until right after Charlie’s birth, when Rachel had gotten fed up with watching him flinch half the time when she touched him, and had demanded a divorce. Then she’d remarried to a rich land developer and moved to this godforsaken backwater of a planet with an ungodly percentage of its landmass firmly in the tropical zone, and most of it islands at that. Danny had transferred _(because of course he had)_ despite the massive amounts of paperwork involved, to maintain contact with his kids.

But it isn’t like the move has helped his senses. Apparently the natives had decided to allow tourism in as a way to bring money into their economy, but _really, really resent_ the fallout. Not that he blames them _(because tourism),_ but they resent off-worlders with a passion that is almost palpable and he’s had to resort to asking others not to touch him and refusing to shake hands. Which isn’t considered rude since he _is_ an Empath, but certainly hasn’t helped their opinion of him any.

And his new boss and Rachel are both insisting he try to find a sentinel, so here he is.  
  
In another half creepy facility with clone sentinels who would find their matches within a couple years most likely _(so he doesn’t have to feel guilty for passing them up, thank all the gods),_ and if they don’t within 5 yrs, they’ll just be rotated on to another facility so more Empaths can have a chance at them. It’s not like he hasn’t been to Exchange facilities before. After starting to have issues back in Jersey, he’d been forced to under law in order to keep his job. But walking through the rows of the nearest arrivals, and then through the scanter rows of those clones who have been here longer never gets less creepy. It’s like walking through a funhouse with rows of human statues, except that he can feel their minds so he _knows_ that they’re alive.

He pauses before the last section. These are the natural sentinels, not clones, and he hates this the most. There’s more to them, their personalities are stronger, there’s more emotion to them even in biostasis and an unnerving amount of that more is simply _pain_ and desperation. Because they had lives and their senses being so far out of control that they _can’t stand it_ any longer and it’s this or a miserable death. So he hates coming near them with a passion. But this is only his second time at this facility and they’ve had a switch-over of this section since last time, so refusing really isn’t an option.

Danny’s pretty damned tired of not having options.

So he walks through the damned rows _(and yes, there’s only three rows, but that’s far too many as far as he’s concerned)_ doing his best to shield himself because these sentinels are just _stronger_ and there’s no need to tentatively extend his senses, and even through his shields he can feel their pain. And he can’t even imagine how awful those original Exchange Fairs must have been, because this is _torture._

Until, half way through, there’s suddenly a mind that _doesn’t hurt._ Sure, there’s pain there, but it _doesn’t hurt him._ Astonished, he turns and stares. It’s a tall, dark haired guy. And wow, Danny’s been avoiding actually looking at the creepy human almost-statues, but he’d hit that. And isn’t _that_ a surprise? Because he’s never gone for guys before. Reluctantly fascinated, he steps closer, and the sense of the other minds around him fades sharply and he _knows._ This is it. This is the one. His sentinel.  
  
“Him.” He says to the attendant who is lurking at one side of the room, following his progress in case something happens (good or bad) while staying out of empathic range.

“Are you certain, Empath Williams? Your file says you are looking for a female sentinel.”

Danny rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m certain. The fact that he’s _not_ female should tell you how certain I am.”

“Of course, Empath Williams. If you will exit the room, we’ll have the biostasis turned off for him and bring him to one of the Lounges once he’s awake.”

He doesn’t want to move away, because that means he’ll have to feel other minds again without wanting to, but he does, and there’s another attendant waiting for him at the door, to congratulate him and lead him to one of the so called Bonding Lounges. Though they’re more to see if the _sentinel_ feels compatible with the empath as well than for bonding. Just because an empath likes the feel of a sentinel’s mind doesn’t mean the _sentinel_ will agree that they are compatible. It’s rare, but it’s been known to happen. In those cases, the sentinel goes back into biostasis and the empath has to go back to searching.

The give him the sentinel’s file to study while he waits, probably to help keep him from freaking out. _It doesn’t help, he’s still freaking out._ But it gives him something to do at least. The sentinel’s name is Steve McGarrett, and he’s from some place in Vandan that Danny’s never heard of. California, wherever that is. His records list him as having been in Vandan naval intelligence and being a S.E.A.L, which is something even Danny has heard of because the Vandany are proud of their operatives who are trained for all operational environments. Huh. So his sentinel is something of a badass. And looks like he at least will be able to deal with Hawaii’s freakishly happy environment _(and by that he means the weather, not the people)._ At least one of them should be happy on this mini-hell planet. There are awards on file, but almost everything in his missions is classified, so the file is thinner than it could be.

He stands, setting aside the file, when they let Steve _(dressed, thank the gods)_ into the Lounge.

Steve grins, a big goofy grin that makes him want to smile back. Then promptly pats him on the head. “You’re short. No one told me my Guide was short.”

Danny fights back the urge to slug his sentinel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing. Apparently my muse made this all up (loudly, so I remembered it even after a nice long sleep) just to leave Danny wanting to hit Steve.
> 
> And yes, Guides are allowed the same right of refusal in Vandan.


	2. Danny Drives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny attempts to not drive off the edge of the volcano of doom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know...  
> It is more. That's about all I can say about it.

On the way back, Danny is uncharacteristically silent _(yes, he knows he talks a lot),_ not that it’s been unusual for him since he's moved to Hawaii. There is an uncomplicated sense of interest from Steve as he stares out the window in fascination. From the look Steve had given his keys earlier, Steve probably wants to be the one driving, but he’s never been here before and doesn’t know the roads, so for today, Danny’s keys are safe from theft attempts.

“Where are we?”

“Pacifica. Hawaii.” Danny answers in an absent tone, negotiating a hairpin curve. Whoever had the bright idea to put the Exchange facility at the end of a road that tries to kill everyone who takes it probably should have had their head examined instead of being allowed to pick a location. He’s pretty sure some starry eyed empath who has a newly found sentinel drives off this road and dies in a fiery crash at least twice a year and the local government just covers it up, because there’s no way that everyone makes this drive safely.

“What island?” Steve asks, with only a hint of surprise to his emotions, followed by a mix of weird glee and content pleasure.  
  
And Danny does not like feeling someone so clearly _(don’t get him wrong),_ but at least it _doesn’t hurt._

“Hono.” He answers shortly and curses as some bird zips in front of his car so fast that he doesn’t have time to hit the brakes, but manages not to get hit despite this act of insanity.

“Oh, the big island. Where are we going? What do you do for a living? When do we get there? Can we-?”

“Steve.” Danny interrupts him in a repressive tone. “It seems to have escaped your notice, but we’re about ready to fall off a bloody extinct volcano, so save your questions until we _get to the bottom_ and me answering won’t get us both killed!”

He turns and looks at Danny with way too much glee, opens his mouth, then closes it, and shockingly sits back and is obediently quiet while radiating smug mischief. Danny is grateful for the quiet, but he’s already reconsidering his decision to accept Steve as his sentinel. Not that he can give him back, it’s just- Okay, he’s _regretting_ not reconsidering, but he really needs to be paying attention to the road, not the fact that Steve apparently as more mischief in him than a litter of hyper puppies.

~

“‘Bloody?’”

It’s fifteen minutes later and they’re finally at the bottom of the homicidal mountain. “What?”

“You said ‘bloody’. It doesn’t match your accent.”

Danny wonders how Steve knows anything about Jersey accents and swear words. “My ex is from England.”

“You were married? I don’t think I’ve ever met a Guide who was married before.”

He snorts, because of course he hasn’t. Empath clones are raised in carefully controlled environments before being shipped off to Vandan at age 20. “Empath. And yes. I have two kids, too.”

“Guide. Kids? Girls? Boys? Can I meet them?”

“Empath. A boy and a girl. And yes, you’ll meet them. They live with my ex, Rachel, and her new husband, Stan, but I have visitation rights.”

“Guide. What are their names?”

“Empath! Will you knock it off? We’re called empaths in Hemide! And their names are Grace and Charlie.”

“Sure, sure.” Steve says in a soothing tone, but the sheer amount of glee that bubbles inside him as he says the words is _anything but_ reassuring. It’s obvious that he’s not going to let this lie. “So what do you do, Daniel?”

Danny tosses him a scowl. “It’s _Danny,_ and I’m a cop, a detective.” Steve opens his mouth. “And _no,_ I do not mean I play a cop on some kiddie cops and robbers show. You’ll have the pleasure of meeting my _loving and friendly_ fellow cops in the precinct tomorrow.”

Steve closes his mouth. And for once in their short acquaintance, Danny has no idea what he’s thinking because he feels weirdly quiet. He doesn’t know why, either. Maybe it was the amount of sarcasm that he’d packed into that last statement. Feeling a little bit guilty for no real reason, Danny adds, “We’re going to Rachel’s because she’ll want to meet you, then home. How long it takes depends on how much traffic we hit.”

“So, what’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?” Steve asks after a bit.

Danny shoots him a look, because he doesn’t recognize the reference, but given Steve’s teasing tone, he’s pretty sure it is a reference. Then again, he’s not Vandany, so it’s not like he would recognize it. Hemide and Vandan share a lot of things _(mostly borders, trade agreements, and the Exchange agreement),_ but cultural tastes is not one of them. “This is what happens when my ex’s new husband, who is a land developer, decides that Pacifica, Hawaii in particular is in the middle of a tourism boom and is a _lovely, lucrative_ place to move. And the judge decides that the move isn’t a violation of custodial agreements. Which means I had to do so much paperwork to transfer out here so I can see my kids, y’know, sometime before they’re _adults?,_ that I wore out four pens and blew out a tire on my car when I took all in to file.”

Steve winces and Danny realizes that he has both hands off the wheel because he talks with his hands and usually he’s better about not doing it in the car, but- He promptly puts his hands back on the wheel.

“You know this place has _pineapples?_ They put it on everything, even _pizzas!”_

“What’s wrong with that?” Steve’s tone is puzzled. “Pineapples have bromelain, so it should help digest the cheese, right?”

Danny shudders. Is he stuck in a bad horror flick or something? Even his sentinel is against him. “Babe, that is just _wrong._ I need to take you out for a real Jersey slice so you know what pizza is _supposed_ to taste like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, the tire didn't blow out because of the paperwork, it was coincidence, but there's no convincing Danny of that.
> 
> Danny and Steven have a mild argument over the terms 'Guide' vs 'Empath'.
> 
> Hemide calls them Empaths, because without Sentinels around, there's really no reason for anyone to come up with the term 'Guide'.  
> I'm thinking that Vandan may actually have had a limited number of Guides at some point far back in history, and lost them when a madman rounded them all up along with their families and executed them.  
> Hemidean empaths are probably not quite the same thing as the Vandany term 'guide' originally meant, but close enough to facilitate a functioning bond. It's a fairly large part of the reason that partial matches are not good enough and tend to make both sides utterly miserable after a short time. Exchange facilities and Centers take as much care as they can to make sure it's a good match, but there's always a few who end up coming back to have the bond broken and start over.  
> I'm also thinking that all the planets in Hemide were originally settled by people from the same planet. While all the planets in Vandan were originally settled from a different planet with parallel evolution _(or if that breaks your brain, go ahead and think that the original planets of the two empires were settled from some now-unknown world, and the two evolved a bit differently)._ The reason is, that it stretches my credulity a bit too far to think a bunch of different races originating on different planets would have only Guides, or only Sentinels.
> 
> Yes, Hono is Honolulu.


	3. Steve Meets the Ex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's pov on Danny's driving and other things.

Steve is delighted with his new Guide, and has been ever since the man gave him a _‘bitch, please’_ face for patting him on the head and calling him short. At first he was worried that the man is the repressed type, but it turns out that he was just avoiding upsetting the Exchange Center staff. A few prodding questions had proved that.

Although, it’s not like he can afford to be picky. Sure, he has fair control of his senses, or at least better than most Vandany that eventually opt for the Exchange. He even had an affair with Catherine early on in his naval career, and has a son that she claims isn’t his. She’s not fooling anyone, of course, because there’s _no way_ his half-sister could have fathered the boy no matter what the birth certificate claims, but he loves Mary Ann enough to roll with it. Although, hell, the boy is probably older than he is by now, given how long he’s been in biostasis. But given that he’d visited nearly every Exchange Center in the Vandan Empire over the course of his career at least once, and the local ones faithfully, without so much as a hint of a match, well. It had gotten to the point that the head honcho of one of the Centers had pulled him aside and told him that he was either unmatchable or required a natural match.

So when his control of his senses had slipped enough to end his career unless he _miraculously_ found a Guide, he’d opted to enter the Exchange. Even though it meant a permanent end to his career with the Vandan navy and leaving everything and everyone he knew behind.

Biostasis was weird. It felt weird. He could feel the Guides as they came searching and left again, but in the sense of a dreamer knowing someone has entered the room without really waking at all. And apparently finding a natural match was just as hard as finding a regular match, because he’s only been pulled out of biostasis three times before this, none of them a good match. And he’s pretty sure his reaction to that one in London, who had been _bad/wrong/wrong/bad/evil,_ had been strong enough that they’d actually arrested the guy afterwards. It’s a little frightening to him that someone like that could find something in Steve to think they are a good match.

Not as frightening as Daniel’s driving, though.

Daniel’s driving is terrifying. Not because he takes his hands off the wheel, but because he’s a _slow_ driver and nervous about it. And, okay, maybe he winced when Danny took his hands off the wheel, but only because he’s pretty sure Daniel _wasn’t aware_ of doing it. So while he keeps poking and prodding at Danny with questions on the drive, he stays away from the more touchy questions for now. He can keep those questions for when Daniel’s not at the wheel.

“Are we there yet?” he singsongs after they pull up in the drive of a fancy house, and are getting out of the car.

Dramatically, Daniel leans his head on the hood of the car and pounds his fist against it lightly. “Babe, seriously?” he moans. “What are you? Five?”

Steve grins, because watching Daniel is far more entertaining than taking in the admittedly gorgeous scenery. He’d studied up on Hemide and its various cultures before entering the Exchange, but Pacifica had been high on his list of places he’d hoped to end up and low on the list of places he’d figured he had a chance of ending up. He loves how Daniel just casually calls him babe without seeming to notice. And yes, he can see why the man goes by Danny, because it suits him, but he wants to be special to his Guide, even if it’s just by using a different name for him, so Daniel it is.

“More like 71.” He answers absently, because the Center folks had told him the year, and he can still do math in his head. Biostasis doesn’t affect that.

“Really, babe? Because you sound like Gracey when she was five, and that’s not a compliment.”

A child, a girl, bursts out of the house, followed by a toddler and a rather slender, slightly pretty, dark haired woman who is presumably Rachel.

“Danno, Danno, Danno!” the girl yells happily, flinging herself at Daniel, who straightens to catch her. “Danno, why are you here? Who is this? Weren’t you supposed to go to that facility place and find a new girlfriend?”

“Hey, Grace-face, this is Steve-”

“‘Danno’?” Steve repeats curiously.

Daniel gives him a glare that could peel paint. “Only my kids get to call me Danno.”

Steve instantly decides that ‘Danno’ is better than ‘Daniel’, and has the plus of riling the man even faster.

“And who is this, Danny?” the woman asks.

Danno sighs and frees one hand from hugging his daughter to gesture. “Rachel, this is my new sentinel, Steve. Steve, Rachel.”

Rachel has a lovely smile, and Steve can see why Danno married her. He’s glad they’re not together anymore, because he’s not into sharing. _Danno is his._

“I always said you were bisexual, Danny. Congratulations. It’s nice to meet you, Steve.” She says in tones that make him think of London, and oh right, Danny had said his ex is from England.

“Oh. My. God!” Danno exclaims, drawing a hand down over his face and sitting abruptly, dragging Grace down with him.  
  
“What’s bisexual, Danno?”

Steve grins at Rachel and saunters around the hood of the car to stare down at his Guide, who is sputtering more than attempting to explain. “It means he likes both men and women to have babies with.” He offers helpfully.

Grace twists a little to look up at him and wrinkle her nose. “Don’t be silly. Men can’t have babies.”

Steve falls in love just a bit. Okay, so maybe he’ll share Danno with his kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hemide calls them Exchange facilities. Vandan calls them Exchange Centers.
> 
> No idea who the empath in London was. Maybe Steve encountered Jack the Ripper or Moriarty. lol. Probably just a garden variety psycho, though. I cannot see empathy as always being a gift. In some cases it must be literally hell, and it probably does send some of them around the bend.
> 
> Steve has been in biostasis just over 41 years. So he's right about his kid having aged right past him at this point. Between his career and Catherine's and Mary Ann's insistence that the boy is not his, he's only seen him a few times and only has a mild, fond attachment to him. Mary Ann is his half sister, because after Steve's mother died (or 'died', not sure which), Steve's father remarried. He was still alive when Steve entered the Exchange.


	4. Hovel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve meets Danny's apartment. He objects

Steve grins down at his Guide. “Hey, Danno. You’re even shorter down there.”

“I _am not_ short! You’re just a giraffe!” Danno fires back, and heaves himself to his feet in one move with sheer ire. Which is impressive, because he’s still holding Grace, and-

Oh, nope. Steve darts forward and stabilizes them before they can fall.

“And _don’t_ call me Danno!” he pants, teeth gritted. From the greenish tint to his complexion, Steve’s fairly sure he’s sprained something.

“Sure, sure, Danno.” He soothes, though he really has no intention of soothing. He sweeps them both up into a princess carry, making Grace squeak in surprise, then laugh. And okay, 30-some years in biostasis wasn’t entirely perfect and he really needs to warm up before he does something like this again, because this is more strain than he expected.

Danno gives him a death glare but doesn’t fight, because if he moves he’ll dislodge Grace.

Steve plops then down on the hood of the car, trusting that Grace’s presence will hold Danno still while he carefully checks his legs for damage.

“What are you doing? You know what? No. Whatever you’re doing, _Steven,_ stop!”

“Where does it hurt?” Steve ignores him, though a warm little glow goes through him at Danny calling him Steven. Even though he’s always hated others calling him that.

“Hurt? What do you mean, hurt? I’m fine!”

“Aww, Danno, did you break a nail?” Steve mocks gently, but as far as he can tell, nothing is majorly injured.

“Danno?” Grace gives him big, worried eyes, and Danno caves like wet birthday cake.

“As a matter of fact I did. I jammed a toe, okay? It hurt; now it doesn’t. Happy now?” he grumps.

Grace beams at him and gives him a buss on the cheek. “You should take Steve home now, and eat something. You always get grouchy when you don’t eat, Danno.”

She slides down and goes back to her amused mother’s side.

Danno looks sulky but says his goodbyes and obeys his daughter, which is _hilarious,_ but Steve carefully does not laugh and gets in the passenger seat. And really, he’s only going to give Danny the driver’s seat until he finds a map of this place and memorizes the roads, which will be a week, max.

“Don’t think I don’t feel you laughing over there. And plotting.” Danny snaps as he drives with his too careful manner.

“Mmmn.” Steve doesn’t deny it, but changes the subject. “Hey, Danno. You ever think you drive like a little old lady?”

“No I don’t, _Steven._ And you know why? Little old ladies drive like bats out of hell! They’re scarier than newbie drivers halfway through driving school. So, no. I don’t drive like that. Because if it has escaped your attention somehow, I am a cop and a father, and I don’t want my daughter to cry over my grave because I took one of these stupid tree infested corners too fast and ended up a pile of fiery ash!”

Steve stares pointedly at the wheel until Danno puts his second hand back on it. Okay, he’ll remember to save the pointed questions for after he gets ahold of Danno’s keys, but-

“Well, actually, they look more people and building and bike infested than-”

_“Stevennn!”_ Danno growls like he’s about to snap and take both hands off the wheel.

Since he really doesn’t want to die by nervous driver, Steve resorts to putting his nose in the air and pointedly staring out the window instead of talking. The scenery really is fascinating, though, and he forgets within moments that he’s pretending to be huffy, and just soaks it all in.

Which is why he doesn’t really take notice of the tiny apartment in the rundown neighborhood until Danno’s leading him into it.

“Wait. Where is this?”

“My apartment.” Danno says in a ‘duh’ voice.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes!” Danno swears a little. “What did you expect? I’m trying to make it on a cop’s salary on Hono where everyone hates ‘howlies’ or whatever they call us!”

“Haoles?” Steve ventures, pulling the word out of distant memory, probably from a class on derogatory terms in the Empires.  
  
“Yeah, that. So-”

Steve shakes his head. “No. Nope. This is not a cop’s apartment. This is a set of walls that’s been trashed by college frat boys, rented to druggie whores, and then left to vagrants before scamming you into paying for it!”  
  
“Oh for- What, can you _smell_ all that or something?”

He grimaces. “I don’t _need_ to smell it. I’ve got eyes. The only thing I can smell over your dirty socks is the mold. It smells like they spray painted the place in it.”

“Yeah, well, suck it up, babe. This is all we’ve got.”

“No way in hell!”

“This _is hell,_ Steven, so get off you Sentinel highhorse and-”

“We are _not living here!”_

“Sez you. The Sentinel without an income. No wait. You’ll get an income from the government once I introduce you to my boss and do the paperwork. But until then-”

Steve hunches his shoulders, because yes, he does have money, he set that up as part of his contract when going into the Exchange, but Danno has a point. It’s going to take a few days to get access to. “Fine. For tonight.”

“Uh-huh, babe. You just keep telling yourself that.” Danno walks over to the most decrepit mini-fridge Steve’s ever had the displeasure of seeing, and pulls a wrapped sandwich out of it, and hands Steve half. A leery sniff proves it is fresh enough, and he’s hungry, so he eats before Danno gets angry at him again. He prowls the apartment, and finally asks, “Where’s the bed?”

Danno points wordlessly at the couch that looks like it’s gone through a few wars and a couple mice infestations, but thankfully only reeks of dirty kids and stale sex.

He curls a lip in disdain. “That?”

Danno shrugs. “You can sleep on the floor if you don’t feel like sharing.”

Steve gives him a look of horror. The floor is not an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, rambles, because I'm not entirely awake yet despite having been up a while.
> 
> Steve. Sadly, I don't think I can make Steve as low level a Sentinel in this one. A large part of that is simply because of the Exchange thing. A low level sentinel just wouldn't be having enough issues to need the Exchange. Also, Steve's military and has, as noted, good control to begin with. Again, I run into that even if his control is slipping, as a low level it wouldn't be enough to end his career. They could switch him to the reserves or to a lower stress environment.  
> Maybe not ideal from his POV, but not career ending.  
> However, this doesn't mean I have to make him an OP character. Don't get me wrong, I like reading and writing OP characters just as much as anyone, but Steve doesn't really need that. He has a rather driven, relentless personality and isn't above being sneaky. He's also a lunatic and rather playful. He's also smart. You don't go from Naval Intelligence to being a SEAL by being stupid. If nothing else, a stupid SEAL is a dead one, and has probably gotten half his team killed along with him. So why does he need OP powers?  
> Short answer, for my purposes he doesn't.  
> In fact, it would make him harder to write. And since I'm writing this for fun (okay, and to shut the muse up, cuz I like sleeping) and not for challenging myself, 'harder to write' isn't really on my agenda. _(Oooh, look at that, I have an agenda? Never had one of those before. Okay, lies. But it is uncommon.)_ Still deciding exactly how strong Steve will be, because it's not going to be an issue in this fic.
> 
> Danny. With Danny as well, I face that if he was a low leveled empath, it probably wouldn't have been enough to break his marriage, even with slipping shields. But even with his shields bad enough that he refuses to shake hands with (hostile) people and isn't comfortable around others any more, he's still functional enough to do his job. So basically mid-range. Enough for it to be an issue, not bad enough to drive him to seek a sentinel without it being pushed on him.
> 
> A couple minor things:  
> Charlie was born before the divorce. For the same reason that Rachel broke up with Danny, she's not going to want to have an affair with him. Having your lover flinch half the time at your touch is not a good thing. Even if it's entirely his issue and nothing to do with you. And more tangled up reasons, which mostly boil down to I feel it works better this way.
> 
> I'm picturing Grace being about 8 at this point in the timeline, Charlie not quite old enough to walk yet. (Rachel's... whatever age that makes appropriate, I don't care. Ditto for Stan.)  
> Danny's in his early 30s. Steve is almost 30 physically, because of the biostasis, but is actually much older. (And I just realized I may have screwed up on Steve's 'mental math' age earlier, or possibly in a comment on it, and should probably fix that.) That means that a lot of what he knows is decades out of date, but might not matter so much in a developing area like Hawaii.


	5. Coffee First, Babe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny is not a morning person

Danny wakes up with teeth against his jaw. He tries to push Steve away. Steve resists. Oh, so he’s doing it on purpose. “What do you think you’re doing, babe?”

“Eating you.” Steve mumbles.

“Yeah, well knock it off. I’m not food, babe.”

There’s a pause, like he’s ignoring it, except that Danny can feel him thinking it over. It’s something he used to like to do with Rachel, feeling her think things over, back before his shields and stuff got crappy and it started feeling more like sandpaper on his brain than something pleasant.

Steve nips him sharply, making him jolt. “Don’t think about Rachel.”

“You know what, babe? I’m not even going to ask how you knew I was thinking about her.” This time the nip is sharper, and he realizes that he’s been played, and he’s just confirmed a shot in the dark.

“Sad lust smells disgusting, and it’s not hard to figure out who _that’s_ for.” Steve growls. And it’s really, truly unfair that Steve has a better growl than he does. It’s one of those growls that make you go still while the hair on the back of your neck stands up like mini radar sensors. Without even going preverbal for emphasis. He thinks he’s jealous.

“Yeah, well, hate to break it to you, babe, but I’ve got a past and I’m going to think about it sometimes.”

His snarly sentinel’s response is to lick along his jaw, and that’s- Okay, that’s not good if he’s going to make it into work today.  
  
“Ugh, Steve! What are you, an animal? Knock it off! Actually, just _get off!”_

Steve pushes up enough to give him a smug, smug look. “I’ll take you up on that some time when we’re not risking rabies from some stray spring.”

Danny mentally facepalms, because he walked right into that one. He groans. “Babe, please. I can’t do this before coffee. There’s fruit loops over the stove and cereal in the milk.” He thinks about that for a moment, then corrects himself. “I mean milk in the fridge. For the cereal.”

The sentinel just smirks at him. Smugly.

He dumps him off the sofa and lunges for the bathroom, then stops to hop around and curse as he bangs his toe and sets the injured one throbbing again.

Steve picks himself up with an air of utter disdain, like he thinks the floor is contagious with some deadly disease. Then he looks at Danny with a bright pinprick of blooming amusement and opens his mouth.

“Shut it, babe. The toilet is calling my name.” He cuts him off, and hobbles quickly towards the bathroom.

He can feel Steve’s bright grin as he retorts, “Nah, Danno, pretty sure that’s the cockroach in your shower.”

“Well, it’s not like I asked you, now is it, _Steven!?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you've noticed by now, but I've pretty much left anyone from Steve's side of the equation back in the Vandan Empire. There's some differences in his backstory. He has a kid. His sis and his ex are together. He has a stepmom. His real mom is possibly dead for real. His dad didn't send them away from him to protect them. Little things that add up to the currently much more emotionally stable version of Steve.  
> Wo Fat, on the other hand, has some more intricate ties to the story, and may show up on the Hawaii side. We'll see.
> 
> Hawaii, Pacifica, is only loosely based on the real Hawaii. For one thing, it's a country, not a state, so it has more and larger islands than the real thing. For another, Pacifica was originally settled by groups out of the Hemide Empire, so some of the terms like Empath are identical, and their resentment of outsiders is more because they decided to allow tourism in and then discovered _tourists suck_ than because they were forced to accept outside rule at any point. There may be several other differences that stem from that, but it's uncertain as to whether they'll affect any story bits.
> 
> You'll likely note at some point that this version of Steve is a bit more freaked out by stuff like mold and dirt and stuff. It's the sentinel in him. I'm borrowing that from established fannon, and also because I'm a terrible, terrible person who thinks it's funny when an otherwise tough person freaks over little things. Makes them more human and all that.


	6. Sam I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The precinct discovers a couple things the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of this storyline is the Hawaii in Space series, not the Oddball Fics one. :)
> 
> Sorry if there was any confusion about it.

“Hey, Williams! You know you can’t bring your pet to work?”

Danny looks up and freezes.

There is a narrow partition that separates his desk from the rest of the room, because whoever designed this place obviously had the mistaken impression that privacy is more important to cops than not feeling like corporate drones. Granted, the local cops don’t even follow the dress code, so maybe they need a little business-drudge atmosphere to feel professional. Most days, though, he’s just convinced that the architect hates cops.

On top of the partition is a kitten. Or it _looks like_ a kitten anyways. Its fur is bright orange without stripes, its paw pads are black, and it has clear claws, the tips peeking out to curl around the ends of its toes. Playing as silly kittens will do, tumbling over itself and shadowboxing at an imaginary playmate.

Except.

It’s not falling off.

And if _that’s_ not clue enough, the fact that its eyes are the same blue as Steve’s really should be enough for anyone. It gives him a look of uncanny intelligent humor, then continues playing.

“It’s not mine.” He says. Then, because it’s Lou, who doesn’t actually hate him, he adds, “But I’d leave it alone if I were you.”  
  
Lou pauses mid-reach to give him a funny look, then drops his hand and walks off.

Danny stares at it a moment longer, then shakes his head and goes back to his paperwork.

He had brought Steve in a few days ago and introduced him to Chief Manaka, but the two had somehow hit it off, and Steve had stayed in his office to do the paperwork that would allow him to work with the HPD. Somehow no one has gotten the memo that Steve is Danny’s sentinel and seem to think that he’s Chief Manaka’s friend instead. Which means they’re all perfectly happy being charmed by him as he flits in and out, _despite_ the fact that he’s stopped by Danny’s desk at least three times just today.

Of course their conversation is overheard. And of course, somebody eventually decides to ignore the advice that the big SWAT Captain took. Somehow Danny is less than shocked when it is Delano _(who uses his good looks and a thin, thin layer of charm to cover a deceit that feels slimy and a deep seated, unwarranted hatred of Danny),_ who decides to grab the kitten by its scruff and throw it out.

The kitten lets out an ear-shattering yowl of triumph and gouges bloody furrows starting halfway to Delano’s elbow, then bats at the wounds once, twice, while Delano yelps and jerks back. Looking supremely self-satisfied, the kitten pivots and dives towards Danny’s face, leaping off thin air at least twice in the process. Danny doesn’t flinch away _(he’s positive it won’t hurt him),_ but does close his eyes reflexively, just in time for two paws to touch down with a ghost of pressure against his cheekbones, then gone again as the kitten lands on his head.

Steve appears from…somewhere, apparently drawn to the commotion. He ignores Delano’s cursing and bemoaning in favor of trying to charm the fluffy orange terror on Danny’s head. “Oh hey, little guy.”

Danny feels the kitten shift positions and bat at Steve, but there’s no yelp so the claws must’ve been sheathed. “Steve, quit playing with yourself.”

 _And wow,_ he did not mean it to come out like that, but he doesn’t take it back either.

There’s a brief flare of surprise from the sentinel, then Steve’s large hand is wrapping around his forehead. “You okay, Danno?”  
  
It’s Danny’s turn to bat Steve away in annoyance. “I’m fine.”

Steve leans down to get a better look at his face, apparently not convinced that he’s not sick. “Huh. Danno, did you know you have war paint on?”

Puzzled, Danny touches his cheek, then grimaces when his fingers come away smeared with red. “Yes, well. Sam I Am up there has opinions on who gets to touch him.”

Meka leans over the low partition between their desks. “You mean Sam the bloody? Because judging by the amount of red Frank is leaking…”

“Wait.” Steve straightens a little to stare at the kitten. “You mean Sam the red here is your spirit animal, Danno?”

From across the room, Delano’s wail of, _“I’m gonna need stitches!”_ makes Danny grin.

“He’s not _mine,_ Steven.”

Meka’s eyes widen in sudden realization. “Your Danny’s Sentinel!”

The exclamation falls into a lull in the wailing and cursing from Delano, and muttered concern from other officers. Danny can’t see it because of the partition, but he feels a sudden sense of attention on them, and enough must turn towards them to look, because grins towards the rest of the room before admitting cheerfully, “Guilty.”

By the end of the day, there’s a general and marked shift in attitude as ‘Chief Manaka’s friend Steve’ somehow becomes ‘Chief Manaka’s friend Steve is Danny’s Sentinel’ in the rumor mill and neither Steve nor Danny bother to correct that. Mostly because Steve somehow is now fast friends with Chief Manaka over paperwork and swapped stories. Which is _weird,_ but whatever, Danny can live with it.

And he can really get behind being able to work without the other detectives _(outside of Meka, who’s always been a great partner)_ actively trying to stonewall him on local information.

The newly dubbed Sam the Red returns to his perch on the partition where he entertains himself for most of the rest of the day and draws a transient, warily fascinated audience. Except for a few minutes when Steve manages to coax him into a play fight behind Danny’s desk that lasts until Steve rolls into Danny’s chair hard enough that Danny bangs his knee on the underside of the desk hard enough to make him yelp.

Danny, _whose shields have been working right for once because Steve’s been almost hovering,_ forgets where he is and lunges out of his chair. “Oh my god, you Neanderthal! What are you? Six? Do you think this is kindergarten? Or one of those pet play parks? Because I have news for you-”

He breaks off because Steve and Sam are giving him identical pathetic looks, then huffs, throws his hands up and flops back in his seat. “Whatever. Just knock it off!”

It’s not until they get home that he realizes that he still has smeared, bloody paw prints on his face, and streaks of dried blood in his hair.

So apparently he’s looked like a deranged assassin all day and no one has bothered to tell him.

Great, just great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam just purrs and looks unrepentant when Danny lectures him on blood not being appropriate attire for cops.
> 
> Steve helps him wash the blood off, while complaining at length about Danny’s shitty apartment yet again.
> 
> Det. Frank Delano requires 23 stitches, and glares daggers at Sam (and Steve and Danny by default) ever after, but won’t come within arm’s length of him, fearing a repeat.
> 
> The local ER doctor is impressed by the number of stitches the scratches require. Until Delano’s partner mentions that they were made by a sentinel’s spirit animal ‘playing near that haole Empath’, then the doctor is just impressed by Delano’s lack of self-preservation.
> 
> Orange cats are pretty common, really, but bright orange cats are fairly uncommon, really. And orange cats without tabby stripes are really rare. A Somali cat can have a dimmer, less sharply defined version of Sam's coloring if you're having trouble picturing it, though Sam looks more like a typical shorthair kitten, so he's less fluffy on the tail.
> 
> If you've never seen the difference between a kitty in playfight mode batting at someone and a kitty in pissed off mode batting at someone, trust me, pissed off kitties are _faster._ Sam's claws are longer than normal for a cat, and actually modeled on one of my cats' claws, a cat who once left an 8 inch furrow down my dad's arm in passing, on accident, with his claws retracted. Sam is about the size of a 6-8 month old kitten.
> 
> In case you were confused, Danny is immediately riveted by Sam's uncanny coloration and his defiance of _physics_ along with normal kitten clumsiness. And maybe just the slightest bit unnerved that no one else picks up on it. Even Lou Grover, who heeds his advice, is only acting on basic respect for Danny's opinion, less because he knows him than because he knows Danny's an empath and unlikely to give advice like that without a good reason.
> 
> This is the last chapter of this fic, because I feel this is the end of the story bits that I can consider 'Finding'. Because I get hung up on weird little details like that.  
> But there will be a follow up fic for other story bits. Just, y'know, with a more appropriate-to-them title than 'finding'.
> 
>  **PS.** Does it bother you guys that I'm answering all the replies? (slowly but surely) If it does, I can, y'know, stick to just answering actual questions.


End file.
